The King's Sons (The Herezoth Trilogy) (20 page)

Then
there was Uncle Zac. He might live in Traigland, but unlike Kora could return
to Herezoth. He probably spent a third of his time in Podrar. And Vane…. No one
in Kansten’s family had ever doubted Vane would move back to the land of his
birth.

Hune
said, “Don’t judge Herezoth too hastily.”

Kansten
narrowed her eyes at the prince. “What concern of yours is that?”

“None,
I suppose. But Herezoth’s in your blood. Your mother sacrificed so much for
this place…. You shouldn’t rush to condemn it. For her sake.”

The
response made Kansten quail at how sharp her question had been. She was
speaking with royalty, after all. “I don’t mean to be so testy,” she
apologized. Hune waved a dismissive hand, and smiled.

“It’s
refreshing, to tell the truth. Few people are candid with me. Unguarded. I’ve
always wished more were.”

“They
see your birth when they look at you, don’t they? That must be a pain in the….”

“It
can be trying. But really, if that’s the major complaint I have of life, it’s
no complaint at all. My family’s sincere, if no one else. My brothers,
painfully so.”

“The
crown prince, did he need you yesterday?”

“He
thanked me,” said Hune. “Explicitly. I don’t think he’d ever done that in his
life. Kansten, how did you know?”

“That
you should go to him? You knew it more than me, I’d think. It was in every taut
line of your face.” Kansten paused, wondering if she dared to ask the question
in her mind. She did. “What did you do for him?”

“I
wrote a speech, to welcome the Traiglanders.”

Kansten
grinned. “I could have done that. Wouldn’t have been as fancy, but Traiglanders
aren’t fancy people. They’re simple folk.”

“Is
that a bad thing?”

“Not
in itself, no. But they’re too simple. So simple it makes them soft.”

Hune
admitted, “I don’t see you at home in Traigland. You’re a bit too… spirited.”

Kansten
felt her grin widen. “Well, that was diplomatic.”

“Would
you rather I speak plainly?”

“Why
shouldn’t you?”

“No
insult to Traigland, but from the little I know of you, your strengths are suited
to Herezoth. You’re brash. A quick thinker. Bold to a fault, and loyal to those
close to you. That’s everything you need to thrive in this place.”

“Perhaps,”
said Kansten. “But still…. Can I speak plainly too?” She didn’t wait for an
answer. “What I’ve seen of Herezoth is beautiful. That Palace you live in, it’s
a marvel. I went out to the gardens here last night, with August and her
children, and there’s nothing to compare to that in Traigland. Nothing, at
least, that I know of. The thing is, I’m not blinded by pomp and glitz. Not
prone to flattery because something looks nice or someone’s powerful. You
picked up on that, and you hardly know me.”

Hune’s
tone was one of protest. “You made it fairly obvious.”

Was
that an insult? A simple observation? Kansten chose to consider it the latter.
“I can appreciate beauty for what it is, and like I said, Herezoth’s beautiful.
What’s at its core, though? Hatred. Great love as well, but the hatred’s just
as strong. I knew that before I came, in my head, but I guess I needed to
experience it for myself. To be here, to feel it pulsing all around me like….
This place is filled with anger. With festering resentment. It almost makes me
long for Traigland again. I never once imagined I’d….”

Hune
told her, “Herezoth, in general, it’s more peaceful than it is at the moment.
Won’t you give it a fighting chance? I know it denied one to your mother, and
would to you, if people knew who you were and that you’d come here. Be bigger
than the hatred. Our raw talent, the hard resolve of our people: those are
things you won’t find elsewhere. If people as strong and decent as you and your
family walk away, then Herezoth’s done for.”

Kansten
peered into the prince’s eyes. His pleas unsettled her, and his anxiety-filled
gaze all the more so. She told him, “I don’t matter to Herezoth, Hune. I’ve
been here two days.”

“This
kingdom needs every sensible citizen it can find. Each person who recognizes
that the hatred destroys us, that factions achieve division and nothing more….”

“I
don’t belong here.”

“But
you should belong, am I right? Your mother, she should be able to return here.
Should have raised you here.”

“Of
course.”

“So
you should belong. If you feel you don’t, use that as motivation. Combat the
hatred you mentioned in what small ways you can. Encourage others to do
likewise, and one day, you might notice you’ve created a place for yourself.
Isn’t that worth striving for? Don’t you admire Vane? That’s what he’s been
doing these last ten years.”

Kansten
insisted, “I’ve no place at court. No seat on any council.”

“You’re
Kora Porteg’s daughter. How can you not realize how significant that is? Your
mother’s a symbol, Kansten. A cause. Be it just or unjust, accepted or
begrudged by you, you’re a part of that. Do you honestly think it’s a
coincidence that this, this atrocity in the making came to light just when
you’d arrived on our soil?”

Kansten’s
eyes grew wide. “Of course it’s a coincidence! One more example of my cursed
bad luck.”

“I
know nothing about your luck,” Hune said. “But I beg you, don’t resolve today
to leave after your apprenticeship. Don’t predispose yourself to take
Herezoth’s tensions to heart. That’s all I’m asking. Give this place the chance
it doesn’t deserve to set roots in your soul.”

The
prince’s last words struck Kansten like a blow to the chest. She drew in a
sharp breath. “You admit Herezoth doesn’t deserve a chance with me?”

“I
do,” said Hune. “Now and only now, before you and no one else, I admit that
freely.”

His
disclaimer was a warning. He was Herezoth’s prince. Third in line for the
throne, but nonetheless, a prince, and if Kansten were to tell a soul what he
had spoken about his father’s kingdom…. He trusted her to keep her silence. Be
he brave or a halfwit, daring or a fool, he judged her presence in Herezoth so
important that he’d allowed her to witness him denounce the realm.

“I’ll
reserve my judgment. For now.”

Hune
shook her hand with a relieved expression on his face. The tension in his frame
remained, though, even increased as the clock on the mantel, below the portrait
of Vane’s parents, struck the hour. Three. The prince scowled in frustration.

“I
have to leave. Valkin needs me at the Palace, and I wasn’t able to see August.
Will you tell her I came? That if she needs a thing, she need only name it?”

Kansten
agreed to relay the message. She assured Hune that August would persevere
through anything she must, and the prince nodded his thanks before rushing from
the room, his shining boots giving him a heavy step. Kansten settled back in
her armchair, her heart pounding.

At least there’s someone
in the world convinced where I belong, because I haven’t the slightest
inclination one way or the other. I should try harder to like this place,
though. He was right about that. So what if I don’t fit in? I’ve never fit in
anywhere.

Her
head was reeling to think she had passed such a personal conversation, not
merely with a near stranger, but with a prince. He was kind to take an interest
in her as he’d done. His advice, his concern, nothing about them had seemed pedantic
or arrogant, as though he thought he knew better and she needed his
instruction. He had spoken to her as an equal: no orders, no drawing out a
simple explanation as though she couldn’t follow his arguments.

Herezoth
was, literally, the focus of his existence, and that of every member of his
family. He deemed her good opinion of the place and its people to be worth
something. The thought made her shut her eyes, for vertigo.

He’s a normal man, he
really is. I never would have thought…. That twiggish kid who cried buckets
when that snake bit his brother, that’s the same person. I guess he’s always
liked animals. Known a lot about them. He couldn’t have been more than eight or
nine, and he identified the snake as poisonous. He knew the….”

“Uncle
Zac!”

Kansten’s
gray-eyed, dark-haired uncle had eased the door open. When that failed to make
noise he’d cleared his throat to announce his presence, and Kansten’s eyes
popped open to see his face turned more angular than normal, in an expression
of concern. He held his bearded chin in his hand. “Ran into your brothers in
the hall,” he said. “They told me you’d been speaking with Hune. That’d you’d
met him already.”

“At
the Palace,” said Kansten. “Day I got here.”

Zacry
nodded, and took a seat on a settee opposite his niece. He kept his voice
merely curious. No commanding tone, no note of worry was present, though
anxiety lined his mouth. “I know Hune and his brothers. They’re the height of
respectability.”

Kansten
smiled. “One would hope. Got quite the regal air, that eldest one. He’ll make a
fine king someday.”

“So
would any of Rexson’s sons. They get on together, instead of thinking they need
to be rivals. Make things a damn sight easier for the lot of them. What do you
make of Hune?”

“He’s
refreshingly easy to talk to.”

Kansten
bit her lip as her uncle warned, “Don’t get it in your head he….”

“Good
heavens, Uncle Zac! What do you think, I’d delude myself into having feelings
for the man? I’ve seen where he lives, and as lovely as I found that hut he
calls a home, I don’t see myself growing comfortable there. You know me. Need
my space.”

She
laughed at her joke, surprised to find the gesture stung her lungs. She cut off
her chuckle a bit more sharply than she intended, and Zacry leaned forward.

“Don’t
you spend time with him and his brothers. You don’t want to grow attached. I
know what lives they lead. There’s no room in their futures for someone like
you.”

Kansten
crossed her arms. “If you think for a minute I’m so arrogant I’d imagine a
prince could want….”

Zacry
maintained his patience, but his voice grew terse. “I don’t think you’re
prideful,” he corrected. “I think you’re a sensible woman who knows quite well
what traits make a man honorable. Hune’s intelligent, well-spoken, and has a
sharply defined sense of integrity. Any feelings you develop will only cause
you pain.”

The
man meant well. He did. But if he thought he could tell Kansten whom to speak
with…. She declared, “I understand what his life is.”

“Do
you understand your mother loved Rexson? She’s probably never told you that,
but he loved her as well. You weren’t on a boat with Kora for four solid weeks
after she lost him to the crown through no fault of either one of theirs. I
was. I saw what she went through, and I’ll be damned if that happens to her daughter,
or Rexson’s son. I know Hune better than you’d think from my work on the Magic
Council. Under different circumstances…. Keep away, Kansten. For his sake as
much as yours.”

Kansten
chortled. “I hardly think a prince would lose sleep over someone like me.”

Zacry
found the suggestion less ludicrous. He smiled, subtly, with no joy in his
eyes. “You’re as stubborn as I am, you know that? Guess it’s time I was repaid
for all the torment I gave my sister as a kid.”

Kansten
said, “It doesn’t matter, Uncle Zac. I doubt I’ll have another chance to speak
with him, whether I want to or no.” A pang struck Kansten to remember how
abruptly her conversation with Hune had ended. She wished he hadn’t needed to
dart off.

The
perception in Zacry’s gaze was too keen for Kansten’s liking. She transitioned
to another subject with what grace as she could muster, which meant none at
all. Her question sounded abrupt even to her ears, and she understood how she
hit upon her topic. She and Hune had discussed Herezoth: its virtues and its
vices, its place in their lives. Why not speak of the same with her uncle?

“Why
do you still come here, after so many years? Why are you still on that
council?”

“I
joined the council because Vane needed me. That was a rocky time for him,
beginning his public life. We worried he might not survive it.”

“Apparently
he almost didn’t,” Kansten said.

“He
needed me to have his back, so I stepped up. Told myself it would only be for a
year or two, until things settled down for him and he established himself at
court. With Rexson’s full support, which I knew he’d have…. It only took a
year, actually. That estimate was right. By that time, though, the Magic
Council had started discussions to found our school.”

“Magicked
and non-magicked children, learning together. Living together.”

“It
was a worthy project. An important first step, and they would need me to
collaborate on the sorcery curriculum, if nothing else. We would get the school
open in another two years, so I said I’d resign once the school was up and
running. Well, it took a bit longer, and by that point Rexson had a habit of
discussing other matters with me.”